Tuesday, 26 July – 4 weeks till curtain-up
The weather had been crap all day. So much so, the rehearsal had been moved from the Corineus Theatre to the village hall for the night. Trying to act in an outdoor space whilst being battered by high winds and torrential rain really wasn’t much fun. Barney hadn’t complained when Jonathan announced that they were changing venue – even if it hadn’t helped improve the director’s mood. With less than a month till curtain-up, Jonathan was getting increasingly stressed. The situation wasn’t helped by the kids messing about, Daniel moaning about the ‘authenticity’ of his costume, and Sylvia forgetting her moves.
Barney was staying well out of it. He was keeping a low profile, tucked away in the corner of the hall, until he was needed. It also meant he could avoid Kayleigh, who’d taken to sitting next to him whenever she got the opportunity, telling him about her bass lessons and her plans to join him on stage when she could manage a whole song without forgetting the key, which wasn’t an appealing prospect. Avoiding her wasn’t overly mature, but his subtle hints didn’t seem to be working.
The other reason hiding at the back of the hall appealed was so he could watch Charlotte working on the set without anyone noticing. She was decorating the army netting for the fairy grove with artificial flowers. Dressed in a knee-length skirt and loose-fitting man’s shirt covered in paint, she wasn’t an obvious object of lust, but in his eyes, she was gorgeous as hell. After all, he knew what lay hidden beneath the conservative exterior. And, boy, had that been a surprise. He was still struggling to convince himself that it had really happened and wasn’t just erotic wishful thinking.
She stretched up to attach a flower to the top of the netting. His gaze was drawn to her calves, accentuated by the hint of a tan. She reached higher, her upper body leaning forwards, her backside sticking out, straining against the fabric of her skirt. He seriously hoped last Saturday wasn’t a one-off.
As if sensing his need to be cooled off, a shower of cold water sprayed across his face. He turned to see Nate removing his crash helmet, his biker leathers soaked from the rain. ‘Everything okay?’
Nate shrugged off his jacket and dumped it over the back of a chair. ‘Not really. A man jumped off the cliffs tonight.’
No wonder his mate looked so forlorn. ‘Christ, and in this weather, too.’
Nate rubbed his face. ‘It took ages to reach to him. We were in danger of being smashed against the rocks.’
As if emphasising the point, the wind outside pelted rain against the windows. ‘I assume he died?’
Nate nodded. ‘He was alive when we first got to him, but his injuries were too severe. Way beyond my basic first-aid skills. By the time the medics arrived, he was past saving.’
‘Suicide?’
Nate unzipped his boots. ‘Looks that way.’
It never ceased to shock Barney how much the RNLI had to contend with. Before moving to Cornwall, he’d assumed they only dealt with boating incidents. But over the last year, they’d been called out to rescue numerous swimmers caught in the riptide, hikers falling from the costal path, and even a family trapped in their home when the area was struck by heavy flooding. It was an incredibly demanding job. And they didn’t even get paid for doing it. ‘Why don’t you head home. Give rehearsal a miss.’
‘Nah, I’m all right. I need the distraction.’ Nate ran his hands through his hair.
Above the mayhem of the kids practising their fairy dance, Jonathan spotted Nate across the room. ‘Nice of you to join us, Mr Jones. Can we expect Mr Saunders any time soon?’
Nate didn’t rise to the bait. How, Barney didn’t know. ‘He’ll be here soon. He’s just finishing up with the police.’ It was a much politer response than Jonathan deserved – he clearly didn’t appreciate that the RNLI put their lives on the line every time they were called out.
‘How very dramatic, if somewhat inconvenient.’ Jonathan returned to trying to appease Daniel, who was sulking over the cut of his breeches.
Nate sat down. ‘Dickhead.’
Barney tried to ignore Kayleigh smiling at him as she read in for Tony. ‘Seriously, mate. Are you sure you want to be here? You look fucked.’ It was a look he recognised. That slightly haunted expression, dark-rimmed eye sockets and sickly pallor. ‘Stuff Jonathan.’
‘I’d rather keep busy.’ Nate rubbed his face again. ‘Plus, it’s not just the call-out.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I’ve done something I might regret.’
Barney raised an eyebrow. ‘Illegal?’
Nate shook his head. ‘But it might land me in hot water.’ His eyes drifted to Lauren, who was modelling her costume for an unimpressed Jonathan. ‘I saw this poster at the police station about loan sharks. There was a number on it for people to report suspicious activity.’
Barney looked at his friend. ‘Tell me you didn’t?’
The hall doors crashed open. Tony arrived, accompanied by a gust of wind. The kids squealed. Jonathan’s script blew off the table, scattering pages everywhere. Sylvia rushed to close the doors. Daniel hastily retrieved Jonathan’s script for him.
Nate shrugged. ‘It was a spur of the moment decision.’
Jonathan signalled for Kayleigh to continue reading in while Tony removed his soaked overcoat, assisted by Glenda, much to Sylvia’s irritation.
Barney glanced at Lauren, who didn’t look like she enjoyed being scrutinised in her shapeless costume, even if Jonathan’s attention was only half on her as he bellowed directions at the actors. ‘This could end badly. You know that, right?’
Nate’s gaze settled on Lauren. ‘But look at her? She’s lost weight. She hardly ever smiles anymore. I had to do something. So, I called them and gave them Glenda’s name.’
Barney considered this. It wasn’t the end of the world. After all, Glenda most probably was a loan shark, so maybe sparking an investigation wasn’t such a bad thing. ‘You didn’t give them Lauren’s name though, did you?’ It was one thing to drop Glenda in it, it was another to implicate Lauren, whose safety might be put at risk. Glenda’s sons weren’t barred from Smugglers Inn for crimes against knitting. Nate’s silence didn’t bode well. ‘Shit, mate. She won’t thank you for interfering.’
Tony appeared on stage and took over from Kayleigh, who skipped down the steps and returned to her seat, waving at Barney as she did so.
Nate’s chin dropped. ‘But it’s not like I stood a chance with her. I’d rather see her happy and hate me, than continue being bullied.’
Sylvia took Tony by the hand and led him across the stage. ‘“O, how I love thee! How I dote on thee!”’ She lay him down and began stroking his imaginary donkey’s ears.
Barney slung his arm around Nate’s shoulder. ‘You’re a good bloke, you know that?’
Nate gave him a rueful smile. ‘Remind me of that when Lauren finds out what I’ve done. She’s likely to chop my balls off.’
Tony yawned. ‘“Where’s Peaseblossom?”’
‘I need a piss.’ Nate disappeared into the gents’, leaving Barney contemplating the potential fallout of Glenda being reported to the cops.
Lauren joined her dad on stage, treading on the hem of her dress as she did so. ‘“Ready.”’
‘Mind my sewing!’ Glenda barked, making Lauren flinch.
Nate was right, Glenda wasn’t a nice woman. Action was needed. Barney would just have to support his mate when the shit hit the fan. Nate was likely to need it.
Tony nestled closer to Sylvia. ‘“Where’s Monsieur Mustardseed?”’ And then he stopped acting and sat up. ‘How am I going to do this bit, Jonathan? I’m supposed to be playing Mustardseed as well.’
Jonathan rubbed his left arm, his exasperation unmistakeable. ‘I don’t want problems, people, I want solutions!’ He waved his hand about. ‘Lauren, you say it.’
‘But I’m Peaseblossom.’ Lauren cowered when Jonathan marched onto the stage.
‘It doesn’t matter! Just say the ruddy line!’
Barney’s attention reverted to Charlotte, who was balancing on a set of stepladders as she tried to reach the top of the netting. Much as he wanted to stay put and admire the view, his chances of getting up close and personal again would be severely hampered if she fell off and broke her neck. He shot over and caught the ladder before it toppled over, one hand catching hold of her calf.
Charlotte steadied herself. ‘That was a close one.’
He looked up at her. ‘Do you have a death wish?’ Her hair was wavy, the top button of her shirt was undone, and he had to stop himself sliding his hands up the inside of her skirt.
She raised an eyebrow. ‘I’ve certainly cavorted with the devil of late.’
He smiled. ‘And for that, I am truly grateful.’ He felt instantly warm when she returned his smile. ‘I assume you’re referring to me?’
‘Who else?’ Her cheeks coloured. ‘Evil man.’
‘Do you need to go to confession?’
‘I’d be too embarrassed.’ Her fingers fiddled with the button on her shirt.
‘Why? It was just sex.’
She wobbled on the ladder. ‘Keep your voice down.’ Her eyes searched the room, checking no one had overheard. ‘And remove your hand, please.’
Barney noticed Kayleigh frowning at him from across the room. He didn’t care, but removed his hand anyway. ‘You didn’t ask me to move it Saturday night.’
Charlotte’s blush deepened. ‘That’s because I was tipsy and hoodwinked by that story of yours.’
‘It’s not my story, it’s legend.’
‘And embellished, no doubt, for your own gain.’ She looked cute when she was embarrassed.
‘Can you blame me? You’re gorgeous.’ He stroked her arm. ‘You had fun, didn’t you?’
She chewed on her bottom lip, eventually conceding with a nod.
‘Well then, no harm done.’ He let his fingers trail over her skin. ‘We could even try it again … slower this time.’
Her intake of breath was audible.
A commotion at the front of the stage drew her attention away, much to his annoyance. Jonathan was yelling at the kids; he was unhappy that they’d laughed when Sylvia said, ‘“I shall seek the squirrel’s hoard and fetch thee new nuts.”’
‘Don’t emphasise the word nuts, Sylvia! We’re not in a school playground. This is a serious piece of theatre.’ Jonathan clutched his chest, as if proving the point. His face contorted into a series of odd expressions: distress, anger, pain. When he dropped to his knees, Barney’s first thought was that he was being a little overdramatic, even for Jonathan. But the sight of him collapsing face down alerted him to the seriousness of the situation.
Jonathan wasn’t acting.
As realisation dawned, the place broke into pandemonium. Screaming, crying, yelling. General confusion and panic ensued.
Lauren appeared next to him. ‘Do something! Jonathan’s had some sort of seizure.’
It was like being transported straight back to the medical wards. Everyone was looking for him to step up and save the day. This was why he’d left medicine. He was not equipped to deal with emergencies.
Ensuring Charlotte wasn’t about to fall off the ladder, he ran over to where Jonathan lay on the floor. Time seemed to slow. The noise was deafening, heightened by the rain pounding against the roof, making it hard for him to think. All eyes were on him, faces were in various states of panic and upset, and people were mouthing words he couldn’t hear above the whirring in his head.
His instincts were slow to kick in. He was out of practice. All his insecurities raced to the surface. The memory of being called to Mrs Kapoor’s bedside to find her without a pulse, and being expected to take action ahead of the crash team arriving.
But there was no support. It was just him. Think, he told himself.
‘What’s wrong with him?’ Freddie stared down at a motionless Jonathan.
It was a bloody good question. What was wrong with him?
‘Okay, can everyone please move away. I need space.’ Barney knelt down. ‘Take the kids next door, please.’ He checked for a pulse. Nothing. He checked Jonathan’s neck just to be certain, hoping he was wrong. Still nothing. Breathing? Was the casualty breathing? And then he mentally kicked himself. If there was no pulse then he wouldn’t be bloody breathing, would he, you daft sod. Concentrate.
He rolled Jonathan onto his back so he could check his airway. Christ, he was heavy. Barney was used to tending patients lying in hospital beds at convenient heights, not sprawled across the floor. ‘Someone call 999. Tell them the casualty is unresponsive.’
Someone wailed. Sylvia, probably.
Tony appeared in front of him. ‘What can I do?’
Barney positioned himself over Jonathan’s body, ready to start chest compressions. ‘I need the defibrillator. It’s in the kitchen with the first-aid kit.’
‘I’m on it.’ Tony ran off.
Barney interlocked his hands. Using all his weight, he pressed down. Just as with Mrs Kapoor, he heard a sickening crack. He’d broken a rib. Bile rose in his throat. He pressed again. Another rib. It felt so brutal, like assaulting someone, not trying to save them. He could feel sweat dripping between his shoulder blades. Another crack. Lauren was on the phone talking to the emergency services. Her words ‘there’s a doctor in attendance’ didn’t ease his stress levels.
Tony appeared with the defib and first-aid kit. Thankfully, he knew how to set it up.
Nate crouched down next to him. ‘You need me to do the breaths?’
Christ, yes. ‘Please, mate.’
Chest compressions were exhausting. No more cracks, which meant all Jonathan’s ribs were broken. Barney felt for a pulse. Still nothing. This was not good.
Nate opened the protective polythene and placed the mask over Jonathan’s mouth. ‘Tell me when.’
Barney stopped pumping. ‘Go. Two breaths.’
Nate began administering breaths.
Barney took the pads from Tony and placed one at the top of Jonathan’s chest and one at the side. He listened to the woman’s voice on the defib giving him instructions. ‘Stand back, please.’
Nate and Tony moved away, ensuring everyone kept clear.
The defib wouldn’t fire.
‘Why isn’t it working?’ cried Sylvia.
‘It won’t work if it detects activity in the heart muscle,’ Nate said, helpfully fending off questions.
Barney wiped the sweat from his forehead, his eyes were stinging like crazy. He felt sick.
‘You okay?’ Tony touched his shoulder.
No, he was not okay. ‘There’s no heartbeat – he’s in asystole. He needs adrenaline. How long until the ambulance gets here?’
Tony looked up at Lauren.
‘Five minutes,’ she said, relaying information from the operator.
By Cornish standards, five minutes was bloody good. But it was still too long. If Jonathan had flatlined, his heart needed restarting, but if the defib was detecting electrical impulses, causing the muscle to quiver but not actually pump blood, then it was a lost cause. Just like Mrs Kapoor. When the crash team had arrived and said, ‘No need to continue,’ he’d felt like a failure.
Had he made matters worse? Should he have done more? It was history repeating itself.
But he couldn’t give up. It was better to do something than nothing, his consultant had said. If you kept going, you gave someone a fighting chance. However slim that chance might be.
Barney resumed chest compressions, ignoring Glenda, who was unhelpfully singing ‘Stayin’ Alive’ next to him, as per the Vinnie Jones advert, trying to aid his rhythm. After thirty compressions, he stopped, waiting for Nate to administer two breaths before continuing. His arms were aching. His hands hurt. Five minutes had never seemed so long.
And then he heard activity by the door. Lauren was shouting to the medics, telling them where Jonathan was. They appeared by his side.
‘He needs adrenaline,’ was all he could manage.
‘I understand you’re a doctor?’ The female paramedic searched out a vein and inserted a catheter quicker than he’d ever seen anyone do it before.
Barney nodded. ‘He needs adrenaline,’ he repeated.
‘Okay, we’ve got this. What’s his name?’ She hooked up a drip.
‘Jonathan Myers.’
‘Jonathan, can you hear me?’ She leant over him.
Why was she doing that? He was gone, wasn’t he?
She administered adrenaline and checked again. ‘Okay, we have a pulse.’ She was on her feet, loading Jonathan onto a trolley. ‘Excellent work, doctor. Call ahead, Gavin. Let the primary angioplasty coordinator know we’re coming. Let’s go.’
And they were off. A flash of green, in and out within minutes.
‘I’ll go with him.’ Daniel ran after the paramedics, his words almost lost amongst the aftermath. People were talking. Praising Barney. Telling him what a good job he’d done.
‘You saved his life.’ Sylvia hugged him.
Barney didn’t feel like he’d done anything. Once again, he’d frozen. His skills had been left wanting. He hadn’t been in control. He’d fallen apart.
He realised he was shaking. A mixture of hot and cold ran over his skin. Jonathan would be lucky to survive the journey to A&E.
‘There was nothing more you could’ve done,’ Tony said, as if reading his mind, as he peeled Sylvia away from Barney.
Then why did Barney feel as though he’d messed up? Why did he feel so bloody useless and inadequate? His nausea increased. He needed air. He needed a drink.
Fending off the multitude of questions being fired at him, he made his excuses and ducked outside. He started running, and didn’t stop until he was sure no one had followed him. On reaching the quayside, he leant over the railing, dragging air into his lungs, trying to catch his breath. He stood in the rain, shivering from the comedown of spent adrenaline and the wet soaking through his T-shirt.
And then he threw up.